He Doesn't Love You Like I Do
by Roonil Wazlib6
Summary: After a rough split from his wife Kathy, Detective Stabler has moved on and is remarried months later to Samantha, a Professor of English at NYU. But what will he do when a criminal sets his sights on someone very close to him: his wife?
1. Chapter 1

"Hey Samantha."

Samantha Stabler looked up wildly but flashed a smile and nodded her head when she realized who was talking to her.

"John," she said. She normally would have waved, but she was carrying a tray of coffee in one hand and a bag of muffins in the other. It was early, only nine, but her husband Elliot had been at work all night. He had called at dinner the night before saying that she shouldn't expect him home. If there was one thing that he loved just as much as his family, it was his job. Having been at the precinct many times before, Samantha moved expertly through the clutter and the people toward Elliot's desk. It was empty.

She turned back toward John. "Where's Elliot?" she asked, moving a stack of papers with her elbow and setting the tray of coffee down.

"Ah, bathroom?" John replied uncertainly, shrugging. Samantha pursed her lips. She had the day off but got up early to go to Starbucks to surprise her husband with his favorite coffee and muffins, and he wasn't even there. She sighed and took off her coat. Well she was just going to sit there and wait until he got back.

"How are you?" John asked, moving to sit on the edge of Elliot's desk. Samantha flopped into the chair next to it.

"I'm alright. Getting better at this marriage thing, anyway." She grinned. Samantha was Elliot's second wife. The strains on his marriage with Kathy just became too much for the both of them, and finally Kathy had decided to call it quits. He had been in a lot of pain when Samantha met him. Kathy had sole custody of the four children and he was hit hard with that fact. During their months of courtship, he had confided in Samantha about his anguish over the whole deal.

"Hey baby, what are you doing here?"

Samantha turned around, recognizing her husband's voice at once. Detective Elliot Stabler strode toward his desk. He looked worn; the whiskers on his face gave away the fact that he had pulled an all-nighter.

"Just bringing you some coffee and breakfast," she replied, getting up to greet her husband. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She smiled as he leaned down to kiss her.

"My favorite," he said, grabbing the larger coffee off his desk while keeping his arm around his wife. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Samantha said.

"Anything new on the case, Elliot?" John asked. He was still perched on the corner of his desk. Elliot replied by sighing and shaking his head.

"I was up all night and I couldn't find a damn thing." He sounded very tired and frustrated. Samantha was used to listening to these types of conversations. She never knew exact details or what they were even talking about, but they interested her. She was always mildly interested by the law, but it had never been enough to her liking that she wanted a career in it. No, she was a Professor of English at NYU. John shook his head and adjusted his glasses.

"This guy is sure giving us the run-around," he said, standing up. "I've got to get back to work. Let me know if anything comes up." Samantha moved gently away from Elliot and resumed John's spot on the desk. She held her coffee in both hands and looked at Elliot with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked with a half-smile.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, blowing on her coffee. "Just thought you'd like to share your work with me, is all." Elliot laughed.

"You," he said. He grabbed a muffin from the bag and took a bite out of it. "You're nosy." Samantha gasped in mock indignation.

"I am _not_ nosy, Detective," she said. She poked him lightly in the chest. "_You_ just don't like to share." Prying Elliot for details was something she did often. It's not that she wanted to solve the case herself (even though she did like to offer her own advice), but she was genuinely interested in what Elliot was so in love with. Samantha was a naturally curious person anyhow, and often nosed into things that weren't her business.

"You know I don't like to talk about work," Elliot said seriously.

"I know," Samantha said, feeling slightly putout. "But _you_ know I'm curious about what you do. You don't have to tell me details. Just… the general idea." He sighed and put his coffee down.

"Serial rapist, likes to stalk his victims. When he's done with them he usually kills them, unless he finds something interesting. Then he'll blackmail them and _then_ kill them." Samantha gaped at her husband; she hadn't actually thought he would tell her. "He's been focusing on petite brunettes. Younger women, usually. We've already found two victims."

"And you can't find anything on this pervert?" Samantha asked in amazement.

"No," Elliot continued. "The lab has searched every piece of evidence multiple times and they can't find anything that gives us a strong lead."

"I'm honestly surprised you told me," she said, folding her arms. She sort of wished she had stopped asking when he told her that he didn't want to talk about it. This was something that she was personally affected by as a woman. "What does Olivia think?"

Elliot shook his head. "Probably what you're thinking," he said. He put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Samantha's heart went out to him. His job was stressful, he was exhausted, and he was still working on custody details with Kathy.

"Are you sure you can't come home for the day?" she asked, moving behind him to rub his shoulders. "You could use some sleep, and a good meal. Perhaps a shave too." He leaned his head back and groaned.

"No," he said. "I can't. I'll be home tonight though, I promise. Before dinner." She nodded and kissed his forehead.

"Alright," she said. "Promise."

"Promise."

"Okay Detective. I'm going to go grocery shopping then, and make your favorite dinner. I'll see you at six." She kissed him one more time.

"Bye Samantha!" John called from his desk.

"Bye John! You keep an eye on Elliot. He promised to be home for dinner!" She turned to Elliot and smiled before moving out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost six o'clock and the house was filled with the smells of lasagna and fresh-baked garlic bread. The Stabler household was in Brooklyn Heights. Elliot had lived in Queens with Kathy while they were still together, but when she had sent him the divorce papers he knew he needed to find another place. Samantha used to live in a small apartment in midtown Manhattan, and Elliot lived with her for a while once they were engaged. They began house hunting soon after and found a perfect house in Brooklyn: two bedrooms, bathroom, and decent-sized kitchen (which Samantha was excited about).

The table was set, the wine was poured, and the candles were lit: perfect. A nice cozy dinner for Elliot to come home to. The lock on the front door clicked and the door opened. Samantha heard Elliot hang his keys up on the hook in the front hall and listened as his black work shoes shuffled down the hall.

"Something smells good," he said, coming into the dining room. He kissed his wife hello and leaned over the dish of lasagna that was set on the table. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"Well I promised your favorite," she said, putting the bread into a basket and setting it on the table. She smiled as she sat down. It was so good to have Elliot home for dinner. He hadn't been around much lately, and it had been hard on Samantha. She began to understand how Kathy must have felt during the marriage, but she decided she wasn't going to let it affect her like it had affected Kathy. Instead, Samantha kept herself busy to keep her mind off the loneliness. She found the quiet of the empty house helped her concentrate on her writing. Their small living room had been strewn with papers, books, and pens over the past few days. But tonight Elliot was hers. He would be home and she wouldn't have to go to bed alone. She missed his strong arms around her as she drifted off to sleep and couldn't help but smile at the thought that he would be keeping her safe that night.

Elliot sighed as he sat down opposite her. He loosened his tie before taking a sip of his wine.

"It's been a long few days," he said heavily, serving himself some lasagna. "This case… I haven't been this stressed in a while." He took a large bite of his dinner and closed her eyes.

Samantha smiled lightly. Her earlier interest in the case had dissolved with the details that Elliot had so willingly given her. A man on the loose raping and murdering innocent women was not something that peaked her interest. Instead she concentrated on her food.

"You okay?" Elliot asked, his voice full of concern. "You seem quiet tonight."

"Oh, I'm fine hon," she said. She didn't meet Elliot's eyes. "Just tired." He reached across the table and took her small hand in his larger one. She looked up at him, and he smiled, his eyes locking with hers. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

"Don't worry sweetheart," he said, squeezing her hand. She smiled and opened her mouth to speak just as Elliot's cell phone rang. He grimaced and pulled his hand away. Samantha hurriedly picked up her fork and continued eating, listening to Elliot talk.

"It's Olivia," he said before flipping it open. "Stabler. Yeah. Damn, I'll be there in ten." He hung up and grabbed Samantha's hand again.

"You have to go," she said. Usually when Olivia called Elliot would be grabbing his keys and his long jacket before rushing out the door with a quick "I love you". It was hard not to feel jealous. Olivia and Elliot were not only partners but had a close friendship, and he was protective of her. Samantha liked Olivia, of course. It was hard not to. She was pretty, smart, funny… which was all the more reason to be invidious.

"Please don't be upset," he said.

"I'm not," she insisted, forcing a smile. This was the reason that his marriage with Kathy hadn't survived, and Samantha loved Elliot more than anyone she had met before. She would be damned if anything ruined their relationship. "If you get done early enough, invite Olivia over for some food. I made far too much for the two of us." Elliot smiled and kissed her good-bye.

"I love you," he said, running his hand through her dark wavy hair.

"I love you too," she replied. Elliot rushed out of the dining room and she jumped slightly as he slammed the door behind him. Samantha leaned back in her chair and sighed. Another night alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Apartment of Maja Benke 

**Greenwich Village**

**Friday, March 17**

Elliot entered the small apartment a little apprehensively. There were policemen everywhere, bagging evidence and taking notes.He spotted Olivia in the back of the apartment, just inside the bedroom. She was squatting and talking quietly with one of the cops. As Elliot drew closer, he noticed that they were right next to the body of a young woman. Blood was pooled near her head, and she was completely naked.

"We think she's the next victim in our serial case," Olivia said as she spotted Elliot. She stood up, looking down at the young woman. "Maja Benke, twenty-five. She's been dead at least ten hours." Elliot kneeled down and suspected the pale body before him. There were bruises on her arms and legs, definitely signs of struggle. He shook his head.

"Signs of foul play," he said, standing up again.

"She was such a sweet girl," someone said from the front of the apartment. Elliot turned to see a man, about forty, making his way toward them. "I don't understand how this could have happened!"

"Detective Stabler," Elliot introduced himself. "My partner Detective Benson. You the landlord here?"

"Yes, for the past ten years," the man said, looking over Elliot's shoulder at Maja's dead body and shaking his head. "Maja, she was always quiet, never caused any trouble. Always paid her rent on time. She was friendly to the other residents. I can't imagine anyone who'd want to do this to her."

"You hear anything unusual last night?" Olivia asked.

"No, I wasn't here last night. I took my oldest daughter out for a birthday dinner, and then I was at my girlfriend's for the night. I just got back a few hours ago. There's a doorman here twenty-four hours though. The one who would have been here, his shift ended three hours ago, but I can give you his home phone number if you'd like."

Elliot nodded and the landlord went off to get the information. He sighed. The adrenaline that came with a rush at the phone call from Olivia was quickly ebbing away and being replaced by exhaustion. He wished he could be at home right now. Samantha was probably clearing the table and making coffee. He could almost smell the luscious pungent fragrance of her favorite blend permeating the entire house. He rubbed his tired eyes. He was determined to go home again tonight to sleep in his own bed.

Samantha had just started the dishwasher and was getting ready to settle down in the living room with a new book. A mug of steaming coffee was waiting for her on the coffee table. She fell into the squashy cushions and sighed happily, wrapping her small hands around her favorite mug and inhaling the rich scent of her hot drink. She was slightly put out that Elliot had run out on her, but she was consoled a little by the thought of the delicious thriller novel she was about to delve into. Just as she put her bare feet up on the coffee table, the phone rang.

"Damn," she cursed to herself, putting her book down and getting up. She padded to the kitchen and picked up the receiver of the portable.

"Hello?" she asked, leaning against the kitchen wall. There was no response. Samantha sighed in annoyance. "Hello?" She was about to hang up when she heard breathing on the other end. She furrowed her brow and folded her arms across her small chest.

"Hello?" she asked again, a little nervously this time. More breathing, and then a click on the other end as whoever it was hung up. A little irked, she hung up and pulled her sweater closer to her. She wished Elliot were home. She made her way back to the living room, making sure all the doors were locked as she went. Maybe it would be better just to go to bed.

She was half-asleep when Elliot slid in between the warm flannel sheets and put one strong arm around his wife. She felt him kiss the back of her neck and she turned over to look at him.

"I'm glad you're home," she said, stroking his face with her hand. It was rough with stubble, but she didn't mind. Her husband was home. She could tell by the look in his eyes that tonight had added another complication in the case. She wished she knew how to help.

"Me too. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" he asked, closing his eyes against her hand. She brushed her thumb back and forth across his cheek.

"No," she answered immediately, but then she remembered the eerie phone call. "Well, I did get a bizarre phone call this evening. It was just someone breathing on the other end. Then they hung up."

"Maybe it was a wrong number," Elliot said, shifting to get more comfortable.

"Maybe. But it still freaked me out a little."

"We should invest in a dog," he joked. Samantha pursed her lips, even though he couldn't see her.

"Or you should be home more often," she retorted, frustration apparent in her tone. Elliot opened his eyes to look at her.

"Samantha," he started. She shook her head. They had had this argument before, and she was much too tired to deal with it now.

"I know," she said. She snuggled herself closer to Elliot, breathing in the scent of his cologne. He held her tighter and kissed her forehead.

"Alright," he replied, closing his eyes again. "I love you."

"Love you too." Samantha closed her eyes and soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

Elliot awoke to the sounds of someone being sick in the bathroom.

He quickly got out of bed and peered around the bathroom door, which was ajar. Samantha was sitting on the floor, leaning over the toilet.

"Honey?" he asked, his voice full of concern. He rushed toward her and she looked up, her face pale and her hair hanging limply in her face.

"Morning," she said with a weak smile. She leaned over the toilet as she got sick again.

"Oh, baby, what's wrong?" Elliot asked. He retrieved a hair band from one of the drawers and put her hair in a lose ponytail to keep it off her face and out of the way.

"I don't know," she said, her head still in the toilet. "I woke up around five feeling incredibly ill and I've been throwing up since. It must have been something I ate." Elliot sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her bare shoulders.

"I need to go into work this morning," Elliot said. He sounded disappointed. Even though he loved his job, he was worried about Samantha and the reason for her sickness. She nodded.

"There's oatmeal…" She got sick again. "Downstairs. If you're hungry." She looked up at him, her eyes watering with exertion and frustration. Elliot frowned. He didn't want to leave, but this last murder needed his attention, and Olivia expected him in to help.

"I'll call you later today to see how you're doing," he said. "I love you."

Samantha could only nod.


End file.
